On any given day...
The other day on break in the gift shop at work, an old Russian medical interpreter I was acquainted with stopped to say hello. He showed me a book he was reading and was so enthusiastic he said “if you wouldn’t mind, …the prose is just brilliant…if you would just read the first page, and you will be hooked.” He had a beautiful Slavic accent softened by years of speaking English.
I was a little distracted by work things and not really feeling patient, but I stopped to read the page. I don’t really remember what it said, or who the author was…I just had a moment where time seemed to stop and began to experience silence and a feeling of peace.
Then we went to the cash register where he bought a rather large handful of multicolor “Lindt truffle balls.” I was there to buy a retractable ID badge holder since mine had broken recently and some multicolored hair-bands (1.49). Being sort of patriarchal, he asked me if I was married. I smiled, my first reaction whenever I’m embarrassed and simply held up my left, un-manicured, unadorned hand. He said, “you know, I was married for 42 years…here, let me show you” he said with a right index finger pointing upwards. He pulled out a matte-black iPhone and quickly scrolled to his photos. He showed me a picture of his wife when she was in her 20’s. The woman was a wholesome looking brunette with a solid build, tan skin and freckles gazing directly at the camera. She had natural waves, no makeup and wore a polka-dot blouse and white summer shorts. She stood barefoot in the doorway of an old wooden house. The photographer was standing just outside the porch on what looked to be a hot summer day.
He then said, “and this is what she looked like more recently.” The same woman 40 years later, same smile with wrinkly eyes and wiry, gray hair. He told me about how she died three years ago unexpectedly from late-diagnosis breast cancer. (hospital people just do this kind of thing) He looked off wistfully for a moment and then gazed at me and put his left arm on my shoulder and said, pointing upward again “Just remember that nothing lasts for ever…even trouble!” He smiled.
As I was leaving, my former co-worker friend (who also happens to be Russian) Lydia called to tell me about getting offered the position she applied for in San Diego; (I had provided a stellar reference) and I told her the story about Michael, the interpreter (with whom she was well acquainted). We made tentative plans for the weekend, but when she called me at 10:30pm on Saturday night I was already getting ready for bed and didn’t hear the call since my phone had been recently set to “silent mode.”
I was a little distracted by work things and not really feeling patient, but I stopped to read the page. I don’t really remember what it said, or who the author was…I just had a moment where time seemed to stop and began to experience silence and a feeling of peace.
Then we went to the cash register where he bought a rather large handful of multicolor “Lindt truffle balls.” I was there to buy a retractable ID badge holder since mine had broken recently and some multicolored hair-bands (1.49). Being sort of patriarchal, he asked me if I was married. I smiled, my first reaction whenever I’m embarrassed and simply held up my left, un-manicured, unadorned hand. He said, “you know, I was married for 42 years…here, let me show you” he said with a right index finger pointing upwards. He pulled out a matte-black iPhone and quickly scrolled to his photos. He showed me a picture of his wife when she was in her 20’s. The woman was a wholesome looking brunette with a solid build, tan skin and freckles gazing directly at the camera. She had natural waves, no makeup and wore a polka-dot blouse and white summer shorts. She stood barefoot in the doorway of an old wooden house. The photographer was standing just outside the porch on what looked to be a hot summer day.
He then said, “and this is what she looked like more recently.” The same woman 40 years later, same smile with wrinkly eyes and wiry, gray hair. He told me about how she died three years ago unexpectedly from late-diagnosis breast cancer. (hospital people just do this kind of thing) He looked off wistfully for a moment and then gazed at me and put his left arm on my shoulder and said, pointing upward again “Just remember that nothing lasts for ever…even trouble!” He smiled.
As I was leaving, my former co-worker friend (who also happens to be Russian) Lydia called to tell me about getting offered the position she applied for in San Diego; (I had provided a stellar reference) and I told her the story about Michael, the interpreter (with whom she was well acquainted). We made tentative plans for the weekend, but when she called me at 10:30pm on Saturday night I was already getting ready for bed and didn’t hear the call since my phone had been recently set to “silent mode.”
